Fic - Spring Conditions - AU Ten/Rose - Chapter 2/?
Title: Spring Conditions
Fandom: Doctor Who
Author: strange_charmed aka
kilodalton
Characters: AU Ten/Rose
Summary: AU Ten/Rose. John Smith is desperate to impress the girl of his dreams by learning to ski, but his ski lessons at an out-of-the-way ski lodge change things in ways he never could have expected..
A/N: for kelkat9 =)
Rating: Teen
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2
As he fills out the paperwork Rose has motioned to, he answers the typical questions he expects of a form like this, though he hasn't been asked to fill out an actual paper form in years now: name, address, phone number, intended length of stay. He supposes he'll just stay here the night then move to the lodge tomorrow, but he puts a question mark as the answer. He's a little surprised to be asked about his favorite meals and to see that the Prentice B&B makes all meals to order here, as B&Bs typically have their own menu based on local tastes and culture, and while guests certainly have input, they often just have the choice of either eating it, or eating elsewhere. He thinks that should be particularly true in a remote place like this. Eager to finish the form, he writes 'banana pancakes' for favorite meal just so he can be done with it.
He pauses at the question about what brings him to Weardale in the first place: he'd feel a little foolish writing "in love with a woman who assumes I can ski, so I'm trying to not embarrass myself in front of her." Clearly, he can't write that.
Instead, he writes "learning more about Weardale, and learning to ski." There. Much less pathetic. It's hardly inaccurate, considering how much time he'd spent trying to navigate the damn roads in the first place he feels like he already knows quite a bit about the place.
His eyes linger for a moment on the kitschy 1950s-style logo greeting customers at the bottom of the page, and he smiles a little at the novelty.
Meanwhile, Rose grabs a stack of towels, a room key, and a wireless phone from underneath the desk. Tucking the phone between her chin and shoulder, she begins to head up the slightly creaky staircase and he hears her speak as he finishes up the paperwork.
"Mickey, is that you? It's Rose. Listen - yeah I got home safe, thanks - ok, listen, John Smith is here. He's staying here tonight 'cos of the storm," she pauses for a moment and he hears her soft laugh trickle down the hallway. "Yeah, you too. Ok thanks, see you tomorrow."
Finally finished, he puts his pen and paper down on the small front desk, setting it next to a basket full of small crystals. There's a sign on the basket that reads "BONNIE BITS, £1 each", which he supposes must be a local phrase because he's never heard of it before. The gemstones themselves inside the basket are pink and yellow, some gently flecked with what looks like gold dust but which he knows is far more likely to be cheap pyrite, better known as Fool's Gold.
After perusing the basket, he walks across the room, still waiting for Rose to return. As he looks more closely at his surroundings, he thinks this feels a little like stepping back in time, with the homey, rustic feel of this place, its classic old-time logo and family feel. The carpets look old and a little worn, but clean, and the thick curtains are a slightly garish shade of blue that doesn't quite match the surrounding decor.
On one wall hang several black-and-white photos of the old Weardale mining camps he'd vaguely heard about before booking his trip here. Clusters of dour-looking mine workers alongside their families and children looked starkly out from the photos, clearly taken in the heyday of the Weardale mines. He idly wonders what happened to all these people, as Weardale is now basically a ghost town except for the small ski industry, but his eyes soon wanders past the photos and onto the next item of interest on the wall.
Near the photos of the mine is a large, garish, somewhat odd-looking plaque with a large shiny pink crystal proudly cemented into the middle. "WEARDALE - FLUORITE CAPITOL OF THE UNITED KINGDOM". He considers it for a moment, somewhat entranced by the large, angular stone, and then moves on.
On the rest of the walls hang a collage of more modern family portraits and photos, some of them taken in the B&B (he recognizes the awful curtains), or outside of it with the sign in the background (he's right of course, and it is a converted farmhouse). Several of the pictures feature ski slopes or skiiers; one of them is a picture of a young blonde girl in a pink skisuit with matching hat and skiboots, holding up a shiny trophy and grinning broadly at the camera. He walks over to it and can't help smiling back at the photo, half-wondering by her big smile if it's a younger version of the girl he just met.
Soon he hears her quick step descending the staircase once more, coming to a slow halt behind him. He turns around slowly and catches her gaze to find her smiling at him.
"All set then?" she asks, and for a moment he's not sure what she means until he remembers the paperwork she'd handed him.
"Oh, right! Yes," he replies, heading back towards the desk and handing her the completed form. She looks over the page for a moment, and pauses, smiling slightly to herself as her eyes linger over the question about what brings him to Weardale.
“S’nice,” she finally says, still smiling, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Not a lot of people nowadays are interested in learning about towns like this anymore. We’ll make sure to show you around, if you want.”
He can’t help smiling back at her in assent, though he feels a little disingenuous.
She hands him the room key, a simple Yale key on a chain, and motions for him to follow her up the staircase. Grabbing his bag, he gladly obliges. It's a wider staircase than he would have expected in such an old house, and they're able to walk side by side up the stairs. On the wall by the stairs is a scattered, busy patchwork of more photos, old and new, detailing the history of both Weardale and the family photos taken in and around the Prentice B&B.
"Did you grow up here?" he asks.
"Yeah," she responds softly, motioning to a slightly faded photo of a large group picnic taken outside the B&B.
She points to a little girl in the photo with brown hair, "That's me. Place's been in my family for years now. My grandpa runs it mainly, but I help him out."
He nods, and they fall into silence.
"Anyway," she says, eyes nervously fluttering away from his, across the other photos, then towards a closed door. "Your room is the first door on the right. If you need anything, just call extension 1, it goes straight to my room. Breakfast starts at 7, so ..."
She breaks off and smiles.
"I'll leave you to it then. Goodnight John."
"Goodnight Rose, and thank you."
He smiles back at her, stepping towards his room, turns the key in the Yale lock and steps inside.
She lingers in the hall for a moment longer, hands shoved slightly awkwardly in her pockets, then heads back downstairs.
--
The room is average-sized and plain, completely unremarkable and exactly what he expected. More local pictures on the wall, more oddly-colored curtains, more slightly creaky floorboards. He peers briefly out the window, and although it’s dark, he can still see the snow falling heavily, tiny white specks against the black sky. Good ski weather at least, he supposes, assuming he can even get his car there tomorrow.
He tosses his bag on the floor with a sigh, then flops on the bed and stretches his long limbs out. It feels amazing, actually, to finally lie down: he hadn’t realized he’d felt so tense and achy on the drive up. The mattress is certainly quite comfortable, and he slowly lets himself relax, soon falling asleep.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Author: strange_charmed aka
kilodalton
Characters: AU Ten/Rose
Summary: AU Ten/Rose. John Smith is desperate to impress the girl of his dreams by learning to ski, but his ski lessons at an out-of-the-way ski lodge change things in ways he never could have expected..
A/N: for kelkat9 =)
Rating: Teen
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2
As he fills out the paperwork Rose has motioned to, he answers the typical questions he expects of a form like this, though he hasn't been asked to fill out an actual paper form in years now: name, address, phone number, intended length of stay. He supposes he'll just stay here the night then move to the lodge tomorrow, but he puts a question mark as the answer. He's a little surprised to be asked about his favorite meals and to see that the Prentice B&B makes all meals to order here, as B&Bs typically have their own menu based on local tastes and culture, and while guests certainly have input, they often just have the choice of either eating it, or eating elsewhere. He thinks that should be particularly true in a remote place like this. Eager to finish the form, he writes 'banana pancakes' for favorite meal just so he can be done with it.
He pauses at the question about what brings him to Weardale in the first place: he'd feel a little foolish writing "in love with a woman who assumes I can ski, so I'm trying to not embarrass myself in front of her." Clearly, he can't write that.
Instead, he writes "learning more about Weardale, and learning to ski." There. Much less pathetic. It's hardly inaccurate, considering how much time he'd spent trying to navigate the damn roads in the first place he feels like he already knows quite a bit about the place.
His eyes linger for a moment on the kitschy 1950s-style logo greeting customers at the bottom of the page, and he smiles a little at the novelty.
Meanwhile, Rose grabs a stack of towels, a room key, and a wireless phone from underneath the desk. Tucking the phone between her chin and shoulder, she begins to head up the slightly creaky staircase and he hears her speak as he finishes up the paperwork.
"Mickey, is that you? It's Rose. Listen - yeah I got home safe, thanks - ok, listen, John Smith is here. He's staying here tonight 'cos of the storm," she pauses for a moment and he hears her soft laugh trickle down the hallway. "Yeah, you too. Ok thanks, see you tomorrow."
Finally finished, he puts his pen and paper down on the small front desk, setting it next to a basket full of small crystals. There's a sign on the basket that reads "BONNIE BITS, £1 each", which he supposes must be a local phrase because he's never heard of it before. The gemstones themselves inside the basket are pink and yellow, some gently flecked with what looks like gold dust but which he knows is far more likely to be cheap pyrite, better known as Fool's Gold.
After perusing the basket, he walks across the room, still waiting for Rose to return. As he looks more closely at his surroundings, he thinks this feels a little like stepping back in time, with the homey, rustic feel of this place, its classic old-time logo and family feel. The carpets look old and a little worn, but clean, and the thick curtains are a slightly garish shade of blue that doesn't quite match the surrounding decor.
On one wall hang several black-and-white photos of the old Weardale mining camps he'd vaguely heard about before booking his trip here. Clusters of dour-looking mine workers alongside their families and children looked starkly out from the photos, clearly taken in the heyday of the Weardale mines. He idly wonders what happened to all these people, as Weardale is now basically a ghost town except for the small ski industry, but his eyes soon wanders past the photos and onto the next item of interest on the wall.
Near the photos of the mine is a large, garish, somewhat odd-looking plaque with a large shiny pink crystal proudly cemented into the middle. "WEARDALE - FLUORITE CAPITOL OF THE UNITED KINGDOM". He considers it for a moment, somewhat entranced by the large, angular stone, and then moves on.
On the rest of the walls hang a collage of more modern family portraits and photos, some of them taken in the B&B (he recognizes the awful curtains), or outside of it with the sign in the background (he's right of course, and it is a converted farmhouse). Several of the pictures feature ski slopes or skiiers; one of them is a picture of a young blonde girl in a pink skisuit with matching hat and skiboots, holding up a shiny trophy and grinning broadly at the camera. He walks over to it and can't help smiling back at the photo, half-wondering by her big smile if it's a younger version of the girl he just met.
Soon he hears her quick step descending the staircase once more, coming to a slow halt behind him. He turns around slowly and catches her gaze to find her smiling at him.
"All set then?" she asks, and for a moment he's not sure what she means until he remembers the paperwork she'd handed him.
"Oh, right! Yes," he replies, heading back towards the desk and handing her the completed form. She looks over the page for a moment, and pauses, smiling slightly to herself as her eyes linger over the question about what brings him to Weardale.
“S’nice,” she finally says, still smiling, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Not a lot of people nowadays are interested in learning about towns like this anymore. We’ll make sure to show you around, if you want.”
He can’t help smiling back at her in assent, though he feels a little disingenuous.
She hands him the room key, a simple Yale key on a chain, and motions for him to follow her up the staircase. Grabbing his bag, he gladly obliges. It's a wider staircase than he would have expected in such an old house, and they're able to walk side by side up the stairs. On the wall by the stairs is a scattered, busy patchwork of more photos, old and new, detailing the history of both Weardale and the family photos taken in and around the Prentice B&B.
"Did you grow up here?" he asks.
"Yeah," she responds softly, motioning to a slightly faded photo of a large group picnic taken outside the B&B.
She points to a little girl in the photo with brown hair, "That's me. Place's been in my family for years now. My grandpa runs it mainly, but I help him out."
He nods, and they fall into silence.
"Anyway," she says, eyes nervously fluttering away from his, across the other photos, then towards a closed door. "Your room is the first door on the right. If you need anything, just call extension 1, it goes straight to my room. Breakfast starts at 7, so ..."
She breaks off and smiles.
"I'll leave you to it then. Goodnight John."
"Goodnight Rose, and thank you."
He smiles back at her, stepping towards his room, turns the key in the Yale lock and steps inside.
She lingers in the hall for a moment longer, hands shoved slightly awkwardly in her pockets, then heads back downstairs.
--
The room is average-sized and plain, completely unremarkable and exactly what he expected. More local pictures on the wall, more oddly-colored curtains, more slightly creaky floorboards. He peers briefly out the window, and although it’s dark, he can still see the snow falling heavily, tiny white specks against the black sky. Good ski weather at least, he supposes, assuming he can even get his car there tomorrow.
He tosses his bag on the floor with a sigh, then flops on the bed and stretches his long limbs out. It feels amazing, actually, to finally lie down: he hadn’t realized he’d felt so tense and achy on the drive up. The mattress is certainly quite comfortable, and he slowly lets himself relax, soon falling asleep.